


Playing At Helplessness

by orphan_account



Series: Smut Promptathon [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Tyelpe's making bad life choices again, nearly as pleasant when Sauron ties him up in the future, you could see this as foreshadowing although it is not going to be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:44:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is easier for Celebrimbor to release power, sometimes, then it is to shoulder it for a moment longer, and Annatar is only too glad to lighten the load.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing At Helplessness

**Author's Note:**

> A smutty snippet prompted by sithisit on Tumblr.

Celebrimbor was not used to laying aside control.

He was lord of Eregion; spending his days either in negotiating and diplomacy, or in work, and sometimes those things seemed to never end, to melt into each other in a never-ceasing round of smile - don’t say what you think - don’t back down, no matter how uncertain you feel - design - build - find a flaw, fix it - again - don’t lose control, even for a moment -  
  
He was the heir of the House of Finwë, but there was a part of him that cringed at the thought of another meeting, one more confrontation, and it seemed that Annatar was an expert at digging through his guarded mentions of being tired and bringing that part to light.  
  
Annatar also had a number of very novel ideas about how Celebrimbor might relax.  
  
Celebrimbor was not sure how he’d agreed to them - or whether he’d agreed to all of them - or if he’d been drunk at the time -  
  
but at this moment, gasping and trying to move his hips back to get more of Annatar’s touch, he didn’t really care.  
  
"Please," he said, his voice cracking halfway through, "please, please -" He was aching with how empty he felt, after long moments of Annatar’s fingers stretching him, opening him until it no longer seemed painful and he was whimpering for the touch. Now Annatar’s hands were laid lightly on his arse, not even barely squeezing, and there was nothing he could do about it. Annatar had bound him securely, lashing his wrists to a post at the head of the bed and tying his ankles to either one of those at the foot, forcing his legs to be spread and vulnerable. All he could do was move his hips a little -  
  
"Please, what?" Annatar was trailing kisses down his spine now, hot but all too chaste, with just a tantalizing hint of teeth. "Remember, Tyelpe, you have no power here."  
  
Those words sent a hot jolt to his cock, as strong as any touch to it; he frantically racked his mind for what to say, and went with the first thing he thought of.  
  
"P-please, Lord Annatar -"  
  
"Ah," Annatar said, a sound of satisfaction that sent a tremor through Celebrimbor’s entire body, and one of his hands finally moved.  
  
Celebrimbor felt it dip between his spread legs; Annatar cupped his stones in the palm of his hand and tantalized the shaft with the barest of strokes.  
  
"Is this what you are asking?" he inquired, voice honey-sweet, with a darkness behind it; Celebrimbor was, for the most part, lost in a haze of frantic pleasure, but something whispered to him; _he’s enjoying having this much power as much as you’re enjoying losing it._  
  
Maybe he should have been worried about that, but Annatar’s hand was starting to withdraw.  
  
"Yes -" he gasps out, pressing his forehead against the coolness of the pillow, giving his aching neck a moment to rest from trying to turn and glimpse Annatar standing behind him, glorious in nakedness. "Yes, please -" And glorious was truly not a word misused. Celebrimbor could swear he felt Annatar’s eyes turned on him, even with his own closed. Annatar was larger than life, here, and brilliant beyond what the word ‘beauty’ could encapsulate.  
  
Annatar gave a low, thoughtful “Hm,” and for a moment Celebrimbor held his breath; then his hand moved away, and back again before Celebrimbor could think of protesting, but now there was something being bound about the base of his cock.  
  
"A-Annatar?" he asked, lifting his head a little, forgetting, in his confusion, to show deference.  
  
A sharp slap on his arse reminded him quickly enough.  
  
"I think you have not learned your place well enough yet," Annatar said, and - the darkness and honey in his voice were entwined beyond hope of separation now, making Celebrimbor’s body tremble with a mixture of confused emotion and lust. It was like the dark chocolate the dwarves traded them sometimes, bitter and yet pleasurable to taste. "So I will not give your release until you have given me mine, and begged for yours."  
  
Celebrimbor felt a shiver go through him again; he should not be taking such pleasure in this, some part of his mind whispers, this degradation. “Annatar -“  
  
A hand twisted in his hair, tugged his head back roughly, and Annatar’s lips almost brushed his. “Yes?” Annatar murmured, golden eyes glittering down at him, half-closed.  
  
And the voice in his head, the one that protests, the one that sounds a little like his father’s, is silenced, and that is the sweetest freedom of all.   
  
"Lord Annatar," Celebrimbor corrects himself, "kiss me - I beg you."  
  
Annatar pauses, then smiles, and bends a little more down to kiss him slowly; it is strangely sweet amongst the bonds and commands, these trappings of captivity.


End file.
